


Her Wretched Grasp

by Loulou123



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Drowning, I Tried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25944466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loulou123/pseuds/Loulou123
Summary: And yet here, hands outstretched, reaching for help that wasn’t coming, legs thrashing around like it would make any difference to her crushing grip; the familiar ocean doesn’t seem much like Jack’s friend.
Kudos: 8





	Her Wretched Grasp

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know what this is, and I had no idea what I was doing at any point when I was writing it so don’t judge too harshly :’)

After all this time, he’d thought that the sea was a friend. A friend to be _trusted_ , that wouldn’t betray him when she had a clear shot of his back.

And yet here, hands outstretched, reaching for help that wasn’t coming, legs thrashing around like it would make any difference to her crushing grip; the ocean doesn’t seem much like Jack’s friend.

He can see his crew peering over the side of his Pearl. The moonlight above them and lanterns grasped in their hands illuminate their faces but cast shadows to his whereabouts. They’re looking for him, but no one will dare to jump in.

His attempts to shout, to scream, to make any sort of helpful noise that will draw their attention are cut off by the treacherous water and the supply of oxygen in his lungs is quickly used up.

The pain in his head, the burning in his lungs, the throbbing of his throat is nothing compared to the torture of being able to see everyone up above while they search for him, eyes lingering on him for a second - giving him hope - before they pass. They truly can’t see him, can they?

There is no pain anymore, just bitter, harsh resignation.

Resignation is - ironically - not what he is resigned to, though, so with one final call for strength he kicks. He ignores the what ifs and kicks, pulls, flails viciously until he finds he can’t anymore.

Still, he falls short of breaking through the water.

_I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want to die._

Desperate, frustrated tears mix effortlessly with the thrashing waters and he thinks that maybe... he doesn’t have a choice.

But then icy air hits the tip of his finger.

It bobs back under but soon it’s free again, higher, three knuckles this time.

Yet no one grabs his hand. No one pulls him to safety, gives him a bottle of rum and a pat on the back for being okay.

Up and down, up and down is all he knows for a while until it’s only down, down, down, down.

They're not looking for him anymore.

They don’t care about him anymore.

They don’t love him as much as his sea does.

She really is his friend...

So he lets her take him.

 _Further down. Further down. Don’t worry, just a little more._ She whispers.

And his eyes close.

_Dont let me die._

One more tear is his final gift to her, and finally he is hers.

 _Finally_.

**Author's Note:**

> Reading this over I realise how weird this is, but I don’t have enough brain cells to change it and my little heart is slightly proud so I’m going to leave it here for you


End file.
